But They Have Bunny Ears!
by Jan Lee
Summary: ONESHOT. Revised. Gwendal, Celi, Anissina, and Gunter end up having a tea party with bunny hats on. How does this happen? Guess you'll have to read the story. Gwen-centric.


Disclaimer: I don't own KKM. Whoopity doo.

A/N: I wrote this when I had a humongous cold, and I wanted to spread it around a little. Cold medicine makes me loopy, so the story is weird and a little stupid. I was inspired to write this story when I was thinking of my KKM fanfic and slipping on my Scooby-Doo slippers. I have since revised this fanfic so it flows better. I present to you:

**But They have Bunny Ears!**

What a lousy week. It had started lousy, continued to be lousy, and still was lousy. Lousy weeks like these should be criminal. It all started when His Majesty wanted to go camping. Gwendal, who normally loved doing soldiery things like camping, was initially pleased that the Demon King wanted to learn about the out-of-doors, and so came to Gwendal seeking advice. It had been Conrart who'd suggested Gwendal go along and 'teach him a thing or two about the wilderness.' And when Gwendal told Conrart to take his own advice, Conrart smiled amusedly and pointed out that he was going on a mission with Josak. 'Have fun,' Conrart had said. He would kill Conrart when he had the chance.

Gwendal decided to make the best of it and travel over to a town where rumor had it that Adalbert was hiding. He could kill two birds with one stone and not feel unproductive. Gwendal, Wolfram, King Yuri, and several selected men rode their horses and spent the first night under the stars. It had been a quiet trip, and Gwendal should have known something was going to go wrong.

First it had been Wolfram and His Majesty up at a god-awful hour, arguing about the blankets. His Majesty was a blanket hog, apparently, and Wolfram couldn't move any closer because there was a monstrous rock in between them. Gwendal had to scuffle around, barely awake and find another damn blanket.

Then it had started raining. It poured. All. Day. Long. When at last they arrived at the town, soaking wet and freezing, Gwendal had decided to check everyone into an inn. The Demon King refused. 'It's not a camping trip unless you actually camp!' he'd whined. Gwendal had had to convince him that it wasn't a camping trip if you died of pneumonia. After everyone had settled in, Wolfram and His Majesty started arguing _again_ when a barmaid smiled at Yuri in a 'flirtatious' manner. Before Gwendal had a chance to intervene, Wolfram's anger had flared, literally, and the inn promptly burned down. Thanks to the pouring rain, the fire didn't spread, but now everyone had to camp outside the town.

The next day Adalbert attacked, along with the angry townsfolk who'd seen the events of the night before. Gwendal and his men barely managed to defend the campsite, and afterwards Gwendal called it quits. He was miserable, his men were miserable, and the only people having any fun were His Majesty and Wolfram.

Now Gwen was attempting to catch up on the paperwork that had accumulated on his desk with Gunter pestering him about this and that. A thick headache rumbled behind his forehead. He'd taken some medicinal herbs, but they hadn't kicked in yet. It didn't help that Gunter's voice seemed to be muffled, as if the advisor was speaking through thick comforters.

"Gwendal? Are you listening?" Gunter's pale eyes gleamed in amusement, as Gwendal regarded him from behind his bangs.

"Yes. You were saying about the embassy?" Gwendal prompted. He sniffed when his nose tickled. Gunter's lips turned down as he leaned forward.

"You don't look well," he said. Gwendal clenched the quill between his fingers as his head throbbed aggressively.

"I'm fine," he snapped, turning his attention back to the paper he was scribbling on. He realized his throat was sore, too, like he'd swallowed a sack of sand.

"Are you _really_?" Gunter asked, putting a poignant little emphasis on 'really.' Gwendal huffed in frustration.

"Yes, _really_! Now leave me alone!" Just as Gunter was about to say something back, Gwendal sneezed. Right as the sneeze was exiting his nose and mouth, Gwendal recalled something he had learned from Yuri, the last time the Demon King had had to concentrate, that the force from a sneeze matches that of a hurricane.

Gwendal discovered how true this fact was as the sneeze propelled him backwards, slamming his head and spine into the back of the stiff chair. The chair tipped back, balancing on two legs, and before Gwendal had a chance to brace himself, cracking apart under Gwendal's weight on the floor. He couldn't believe a sneeze had just knocked him over. And had broken his favorite chair.

Gunter leaned over, that damn amused look on his face, hair falling over his shoulders. Gwendal glared up at him.

"My, my," was all he had to say. From his position on the floor, Gwendal heard the tapping of quick, light footsteps in the hall. His mother and Anissina crashed through the doors into his study. Both of them looked nervous and worried.

"We heard a roar!" Anissina said breathlessly, and stopped to look at Gunter leaning over Gwendal. A look of puzzlement crossed her face as she saw Gwendal on the floor. "What are you guys doing?" Suspicion tainted her words.

With a deepening scowl, Gwendal shifted around to pull himself to his feet. Celi held on to his arm like she was the one who needed help up, not him. All the activity had stirred up the dust in the room, and Gwendal felt his nose twitch.

"AAAAACHOOOO!" Papers fluttered around, landing on Anissina, Celi, and Gunter. Celi plucked a paper off her head.

"Ah. So _that's_ it," Anissina surmised, touching her fingers to her chin. Gwendal could practically see the wheels whirring in the Red Devil's mind.

"I know when a son of mine is sick," Celi said, putting a hand on Gwendal's forehead. He had a burning fever. "You're going to bed."

"No. I neeb do do some more worg," Gwendal replied obstinately and pressed his sinuses gingerly. He'd sneezed just twice and now his nasal cavity was stuffed. Then, "AH! AH! ACHOOOOO!"

After that, he couldn't get away. Between his mother, Anissina, and Gunter, Gwendal was taken, kicking and sneezing, to his bedchambers and soundly tucked into bed. They must have fed him some spiked tea later that day because he didn't remember falling asleep.

When he woke up the following morning? Day? Night? Gwendal wasn't sure what time it was---he _felt_ sick. He had a disgusting taste in his mouth; snot oozed down the back of his sore throat; his eyes where itchy; his nose was plugged up; and cotton had somehow managed to replace his brain. He wasn't quite sure what to make of himself, so he reached underneath his bed and pulled out his knitting basket.

The cool metal needles and the tiny clicking took some of the discomfort off his mind. His mother visited him, told him it was actually sometime in the late afternoon of the following day, and had a late lunch with him. She shook some medicinal herbs into his tea, telling him he needed to drink it all up like a good little boy. He did.

After she left, Gwendal spent a few moments considering his ceiling. He thought he felt the herbs working their wonder, but it made him feel…strange. It occurred to him that his feet were cold. So he grabbed his needles and some pink yarn (because he reasoned that pink was the warmest color) and started knitting with the occasional sniffle and cough.

Gwendal knitted and knitted. When he was finished, he had knitted together a pair of slippers. Happy with his handiwork, he put them on. Unfortunately, his toes were extremely unhappy that they couldn't be seen wiggling. So Gwen added some cute bunny ears to his slippers. When he wiggled his toes (after putting the slippers on again) the ears wiggled too. His feet were warming up nicely, and the medicinal herbs must have cleared up his head because he was feeling better.

"I'm cold, too," said a woman's voice. Gwendal looked to the statue on his mantel. Gwen had never noticed the statue of the naked lady there before.

"Huh? Where did _you_ come from?" he asked the statue, it not occurring to him to be startled. She settled her hands on her hips.

"I was gift from Gunter, remember?" she told him. "You've ignored me this whole time. Now I want a dress to wear."

"Okay," said Gwendal, feeling guilty that he had ignored this pretty little statue. "What color do you like?"

"Purple," she answered promptly. Gwendal rummaged around in his basket and found some purple yarn. As he knitted, they talked about sorts of different things, and Gwendal thoroughly enjoyed his conversation with her. When he'd finished knitting the statue her dress, he held it up proudly.

"Do you like it, Lousia?" He had found out the statue's name halfway through their conversation.

"It's wonderful! You're such a great knitter! You know," she said as Gwendal handed her the purple dress (he had moved her from the mantel to his bedside table), and she pulled it over her head, "I have a some friends who would love to have some things knitted for them."

Later, when Celi checked in on her eldest son, she found him in the middle of knitting a scarf and having an animated debate with a statue about the profound writings of Lord von Hailerwitz and the effect his books had on the general public. He was surrounded by piles of knitted garments, ranging from hats, gloves, and socks to plush animals and tea cozies.

"Gwen, darling, what are you doing?" she asked, moving cautiously to his side, trying to prevent a giggle at the two pigtails he had put his hair into.

"I didn't know how drafty this castle gets," he answered her, knitting away. The yellow yarn was deftly looped and worked with the needles. Slowly she sorted through the pile of knitting.

"You've been busy," Celi commented, at a lost. She held up what looked like a pair of underpants in a pale blue color. "Who're _these_ for?"

"Louisa wanted those for Albie," he replied without looking up. Celi's eyebrow went up.

"And who's Louisa?" she asked tugging at the sides of the underpants to test stretchiness.

"She's standing right there, in the purple dress." Celi gazed at the inanimate statue. Gwendal had done a nice job of knitting clothing for the petite statue.

"And Albie?"

"Albie's the lion statue in the main hall," Gwendal replied. "Are you done questioning me? I've got a lot of work to do." He wiggled his toes at her, twitching the bunny ears.

"Oh, my," Celi said. She thought she saw two pairs of bunny ears flop at her. Gwen stopped knitting suddenly.

"I think that's a good idea," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. And Celi saw that his feet were indeed clad in pink bunny slippers.

"What's a good idea?" she asked, completely clueless as to what her son was talking about.

"A tea party," Gwendal replied, as if it that was the most obvious thing in the world. Celi put a hand on Gwen's shoulder.

"I think you're a little too sick to be tramping around, sweetheart," she said. Gwen's face scrunched. She hadn't seen this look since Gwen was about seven years old.

"But mo_ther_," protested Gwendal, "don't you want me to meet beautiful women who could potentially become my wife?"

"Yes, but…" It suddenly occurred to Celi what was going on. Her eyes locked on the teacup, the very one she'd dumped cold medicine in earlier this day. Long ago, when Gwen had been sick before, he'd acted this very same way. The medicine screwed with his head. The door burst open.

"Gwendal? Gwendal!" Anissina and Gunter came into the room, having been fed up with waiting for Celi to update them on Gwendal's condition. They each stopped in mid-stride and swept their eyes over Gwendal's covered bed.

"Oh, wow," Anissina murmured.

"Gunter! Anissina!" Gwendal exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in ages! Will you come to my tea party?"

Gunter, Anissina, and Celi all exchanged looks. Celi made a little circle motion with her finger pointed to her head.

"Tea party?" Gunter said, a confused crease between his eyebrows, but he understood Celi's meaning. "Well, why not?"

So Celi sent her handmaidens to the kitchen to bring up all the necessary things needed for a tea party. While they waited, they discovered that Gwendal had managed to knit something for just about every statue in the entire castle. After a few minutes of conversation, Gwen held up a finger.

"I just forgot something," he said, scattering the many pieces of work as he searched for something specific. Everyone was pretty sure he'd meant to say 'I just _remembered_ something' but was too polite to point that out. At last Gwendal found what he was looking for.

"Ah ha!" he exalted, holding up several pairs of hats. "What's a party without party hats?"

He passed them around, one for Celi, one for Anissina, one for Gunter, and one for himself. The others silently examined the knitted hats in their hands. Gwendal had already put one on. It was pink, like his slippers, and had pompoms attached to the end of some loose ties.

"I'm not sure if I should wear this," Gunter started slowly, thinking that the yarn would frizz his gorgeous locks. Celi nodded in agreement.

"But they have bunny ears!" Gwendal argued, pointing to the hat on his head, where the bunny ears flopped about. Who could refuse a hat with bunny ears?

"But they have bunny ears," Anissina repeated resignedly, pulling the hat on. Hers, too, had pompoms.

"That they do," murmured Celi, putting hers on. Gunter followed suit, and smiled hesitantly at Gwendal.

"How does it look." _Utterly ridiculous_, Anissina, Celi, and Gunter silently answered with smiles, as Gwendal gave Gunter a double thumbs-up sign. At this time, the handmaidens returned with tea trays.

So Gwendal, Anissina, Celi, and Gunter wore the knitted bunny hats and had a tea party.

A/N: If you've gotten this far, you can spend an extra minute of your busy life to leave a review of some sort, even you hated this fic like no other. I have, like, 80 hits on this fanfic but three reviews. That's pathetic. Find something wrong with the damn thing and point it out or something! Geez….

What's worse…I'm thinking of adding another chapter to this…aimless like my life, I know.


End file.
